It Would Be Better If You Were Still Here
by perfectly-unperfected
Summary: Oneshot. Probably the most depressing thing I've ever written. I think it's an arc, whatever that is. Cargan  friendship


**Authors note: So sorry to everyone who's waiting for an update on "Am I Better Off Without You?", I'm just so lost on what to do. I'm looking for an excuse to procrastinate on my Spanish project, hence the reason I'm writing now. I didn't proofread it, so it probably is terribly written, but it's still pretty sad.**

Carlos' head was pounding, as he stood around Logan's locker, waiting for him to come into school. He was confused, worried, and angry. He was confused, because everyone, even the assholes, who walked by him, didn't shove him into the locker or beat him senseless on the floor like they normally did; they gave him a grave, grim look, something like you give someone who just went through a hard breakup. And there were two problems with them giving him that look; Logan wasn't his boyfriend, nor had he ever been.

He was also extremely worried, for Logan's sake. There were terrible things posted on his facebook the night before, that he hadn't even replied to they were so bad. It was these people that he had known for years, some he had even gone to elementary schools with, telling him he was worthless, and to die; All because of a fucking hockey game. Carlos winced as he remembered the game last night.

_The crash from the center of the ice brought every distracted member of the audience back to the game. One player, Kendall Knight, from Minnesota Central had been pounded into the ice by a jealous member of the opposing team. The coach was reaching his last nerve, and the last players on the bench, with so many penalties and injuries. The desperate coach called his last-resort minimum-plays player into the game; Logan Mitchell. He wasn't necessarily bad at the game, he was normally pretty good, just not when he needed to be. Fooling around on the ice with other players outside of practices and games, you wonder why he wasn't played more than he should be._

_ Logan was put into the goalies box in the last few minutes of the fourth quarter. The scores were tied, 6 on 6, and either team scoring guaranteed them a win, and a spot in the playoffs. Logan Mitchell was nervously tapping his stick while the offences players tried scoring a goal, and failed miserably. As the puck was reset and the other team raced towards the goal, time seemed to slow down for the replacement goalie. He knew the entire state would hate him if he let this pass by, so he tried mustering up every last bit of energy he had to block the goal. The player holding the puck faked a shot and passed it to a team mate on the opposite side of the goal, who didn't hesitate shooting it straight in. Mitchell dived for the puck, but didn't block it in time. The buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game. Half the crowd roared in appreciation, the other roared in anger. As the player who shot the winning goal was carried off the ice by his thankful teammates, the failed goalie was miserably shoved off the ice. Shouts of, "What the fuck is your problem?" and "You're a fucking dumbass Mitchell" followed him as he dragged himself into the locker room, changed out, and went home, not waiting for his friend Carlos to catch up._

Carlos shook the thoughts of last night out of his head, and continued searching for his friend. This was why he was angry at him; He wouldn't return any of his phone calls, texts, or anything. He wouldn't have minded his he just replied to leave him alone, but to be ignored when he was the one person in the school on his side at the moment, it hurt.

The bell rang, signaling to the students that they better get into homeroom or fear detention. Carlos' face scrunched up in confusion; Logan was _never_ late to school, let alone absent. He was the most perfect student academic-wise; perfect grades, attendance, and all of the teachers adored him. The students thought the opposite; they like to punch him silly. Hell, one kid even put as an interest on facebook profile, "Beating dorks like Mitchell". Carlos was his only friend, and you could say the same for Logan. They had been best friends since the first day they met; Carlos smiled as he thought back to that day.

_The rain pounded on the windows of Little Things Preschool as all the children ran around and played with their friends. There was one boy, however, who wasn't playing with the other kids. He was seated at a blue table, in a small blue chair, writing letters on a piece of paper. A Latino boy was tired of playing with the other kids, and wondered what he was doing. He toddled over to the child, and leaned over his shoulder._

_ "Hey! What's that?" he said, pointing at the string of letters Logan connected together. The smaller boy slightly jumped at the sound of a voice; children never normally talked to him, always considered him weird, and different. Not like he minded._

_ "It's a word… see? It spells, "friend", I think." He wasn't exactly right, as the e was before the i, but it was impressive, especially for a four year old. The child's voice was slightly raspy, like it hadn't been used recently, or he has spoken that many words in a long time._

_ "Oh… I can be your friend, too! I'm Carlos!" The boy jumped up and sat on the table, sticking out his hand to shake with the others. His new friend hesitated for a moment, you could see a train of thought moving in his brain. Then, he stuck his hand out in the same fashion, and shook Carlos'. _

_ "Logan Mitchell," He said, and smiled._

Carlos was brought out of his thoughts when a teacher smacked him in the back of the head with her clipboard.

"Didn't you hear me? I said, get to homeroom!" she squawked, and walked away, shaking her head. Carlos trudged into homeroom, as the scratchy intercom started to begin the announcement. There was some noise from people talking in the office, and a pause before the principal began.

"Before we begin the announcements for this morning, we'd like to have the following people report to the dean's office immediately." The principal began to list a long list of names, some Carlos recognized, many from the hockey team, and many Carlos remembered had put nasty things on his friend's wall the night before. _Finally, they're doing something about it,_ Carlos thought, and inwardly sighed in relief, thinking all the pain he and Logan endured daily would be long gone after the dean had a talk with them.

"And one last thing, I would like everyone to dedicate positive thoughts to the Mitchell family, who lost their only son, and one of our Juniors, Logan last night, due to a teenage suicide."

The normally chatty homeroom went silent. The teacher stopped poking at her keyboard, the kids stopped playing with their phones, and Carlos, for a few moments, stopped breathing. He got up, his eyes over-filling with tears, and left the classroom. He walked through the hallways, hearing ringing in his ears, and the chatter of kids in other classrooms seeming extremely distant. He felt like time had been paused around him, and there was nothing going on, except where he was going, and what he was going to do there. He actually didn't know exactly where he was going, but he knew his feet would take him where ever was right. He soon found himself in the back of the school, far enough away that nobody could hear him, but he was still visible if you strained your eyes enough.

"He was my only friend!" Carlos dropped to the ground and began sobbing uncontrollably. He fell to his knees in the muddy field, and curled up into the fetal position, and cried, and cried. He didn't know how long he was down for, maybe minutes, hours, could've been years for all he knew. Carlos got back up, and used his mud-stained hands to wipe his eyes, ignoring the stinging it brought to them. He moved himself up, past the school, past his house, and found himself at Logan's house. He knocked on the door, and soon realized how pathetic he looked, but it didn't matter. Logan's younger sister opened the door, Hope.

"Carlos? Why are you sad?" Carlos didn't acknowledge her, and went into Logan's old room. He found everything the way he last saw it, neat, and organized, everything in its proper place. He fell onto Logan's bed, and cried, his mind flashing back to the last time he was here.

_"Carlos? You're doing homework?" Logan's laugh echoed around the room as he found his smaller friend using his book to try and comprehend the math book on his lap._

_ "I don't know how you smart people do it! All these letters and numbers, math was hard enough before they added the alphabet into it!" Carlos genuinely replied, but laughed along with the genius who moved next to him, to try to explain the problems on the page. After a few minutes, Carlos was fed up, and picked up the book, and tossed it across the room. _

_ "It's too hard!" he tried explaining, as his friend began to lecture him on proper care for books. _

Carlos was once again shook out of his thoughts as he felt a little hand on his shoulder.

"Carlos?" Hope looked into his big, chocolate eyes. At age 9, she was like Logan was, wise upon her years. "I know your sad because Logie isn't here anymore." Carlos had no response, except to nod, and feel his eyes filling up again. They soon fell down his muddy face, and onto Logan's neat bed.

"Carlos! Don't be sad! Everything happens for a reason. I was sad too, but then I remembered that Logie wouldn't want you to be sad! He wants you to be happy! You'll see him again one day, and then you'll see him forever in heaven! But right now he wants you to be happy without him for a little while." Her small arms wrapped around the bigger boy, and to an outsider, it looked like it should be the other way around, and he should be comforting her. But to them, it seemed just right. Carlos knew what she was saying was true, but didn't want to have to wait years to be with Logan again. _It would just be better if you were still here_, he thought, before hugging his dead friend's sister again.


End file.
